I’m in an office, with some big wig organization, and have been for the past four years. I’m a secretary, a frustrated one at that, seeing as I work at the front desk, dealing with everyone’s unreasonable, hostile “constructive criticism”: “Let me speak to your manager”, “What’re you doing”, “You idiot, do your job”, it’s all I hear day in and day out. I was supposed to be serving time in military for a year, but I’ve taken a leave. I’ve been asked by the military to come back on multiple occasions, but I’ve denied and I bought my way out of it . Other than that, I’ve done nothing interesting. I’m stuck at this desk. It’s sick and boring. I’ve got to out of here. I’ve been planning to get out of here for years, but so far I’ve got nothing. Life doesn’t seem like it’ll change, but I’m sure it will.
I wake up at 5:00 a.m. everyday on the dot. I brush my teeth, urinate, throw on my uniform black dress, then head off to work in my car. I’m always out by 5:30 a.m. For the past 4 years it’s always been 5:30. I head off to work in my old Honda Civic, and after half an hour or so, I see it in my left-side peripheral, “Pyrex”, the huge company I work for. We sell kitchen supplies, primarily cheap, manufactured blenders.I’m on the front desk, so my job is to take the backlash for low quality and to make sure we don’t lose profit from consumers who want to be recompensed for our defective products.
It’s normally 11:00 when the first angry critic comes. And surely, today, he does. This one’s an old senile man. White hairs, and a sweater vest over his polo, he has limp- and not to mention, he carries himself around with a cane .
He starts off with the classic “What’s the meaning of this!”
I’d keep up my smile and ask him “What seems to be the problem, sir?”
He’d elaborate that our product, a blender, “The Blade”, is trash, that it keeps breaking down every time he uses it. Of course it doesn’t work, it’s made up of some plastic and glue! Nonetheless, I’d still try to convince him that it isn’t the products fault. My whole job is to try and void his warranty, on the accountability that the whole thing was his own fault, not the products. But it was always the products fault. Nonetheless I’d always work to make sure he wouldn’t be reimbursed.
For seven more hours I do the same thing until it hits 5:00 p.m. I’d work at the desk everyday, working for an hour, and another hour, and another hour, all the way until 5:00 p.m dealing with angry customers. Who cares if your product doesn’t work! It has the lowest quality on the planet! It was five god forsaken dollars. Twelve hours a day I do this. I hate it so much.
It’s 5:00 now, so I can go home. I head back to my house taking the same bleak, monotonous roads. I go over the agonizing work day, until I see my home. It’s about 6:00 p.m, so I microwave a T.V pasta dinner. I wait about five minutes for it to cool, then I eat it. After dinner, I relax with some radio until, take a shower, then hit the sack. It’s about 7:00 p.m before I collapse in my bed.
I think to myself If I should keep this up. Working seven days a week at a job I hate. I deal with people yelling all day. I want a change so badly. Maybe I’ll quit tomorrow. Maybe I’ll try to get back into the military. Or maybe I’ll just stay where I am. Do I like this monotonous work? Am I willing to stay here? I need to seek something better. I shouldn’t have left the military: It’s my biggest regret. I need to stop regretting